


Before the Beginning

by Stackthedeck



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angel Crowley (Good Omens), Angel Hierarchy, Angst, Blasphemy, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff at the beginning, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Pre-Fall (Good Omens), The Ineffable Plan (Good Omens), angst towards the end, canon typical blasphemy, in the sense that everything in Good Omens is blashphemy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-06-23 14:23:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19703182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stackthedeck/pseuds/Stackthedeck
Summary: In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth. (Genesis 1:1). But, what happened before the beginning? Two angels meet and explore creation as it is being built around them. They form a close friendship that blossoms into something more. But, something is wrong in heaven. Will the Ineffable Plan come between them?





	Before the Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> The pre-fall is one of my favorite tropes and I had so much fun playing with it, I hope y'all have fun reading it! 
> 
> Thank you to thefreshprinceofbelfur for beta reading for me, check her out on Tumblr! My Tumblr is the same as my user name, stackthedeck, come chitchat about Good Omens, it's a good time, I swear.

“Hello.” A voice says from nowhere. All voices have come from nowhere. There’s only the Almighty and the angels. Although, word has it that will change soon.

“Hello?” The angel Aziraphale says, vaguely sensing another ethereal presence. “Who’s there?”

“The name’s Crowley.” Aziraphale feels the angel come closer.

“Oh.” The angel reaches his energy towards Crowley, as one would when offering a hand to shake. But hands haven’t been invented yet. “I’m Aziraphale.”

“Pleasure to meet you.” Crowley extends his energy, far more powerful than Aziraphale’s, and instead of a gentle tap, as is polite and correct for a higher angel, he intertwines them. The experience is intimate and kind in a way that’s unusual for heaven.

“This is new,” Aziraphale states in the matter of fact way that can only be achieved by an overload of emotions.

“You don’t like it?” Crowley beginnings to withdraw himself.

“No!” Aziraphale grabs him back. The feeling is warm and comforting. It can be so lonely in all this nothing. “This is quite nice, that is if you still want to do it.”

Crowley laughs and holds tighter to Aziraphale. “I quite like it too, Aziraphale.”

The two stay like that for a while, paying attention to the nothing around them and definitely not their entanglement. They sit there for who knows how long (a measurement for time hasn’t been invented yet).

Suddenly, Aziraphale notices a disturbance in Crowley’s energy. Something, or someone, has touched him, creating a ripple, faded by the time it reaches Aziraphale.

“I have to go.” Crowley retracts his energy and shuffles away, but not that far. “Meet here tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow?” Aziraphale retracts his energy but doesn’t move.

“Yeah, it’s this new thing, the Almighty is creating something to separate the nothing from the nothing.”

“Interesting.” Aziraphale almost thinks it strange, but he doesn’t, that’s not his place. “So I’ll see you...tomorrow?”

Crowley leaves. and Aziraphale doesn’t have anywhere to go so he just waits.`

Crowley is right, the nothing is separated into light and darkness. Aziraphale isn’t fond of the dark but, the Almighty created it so it’s good. The light though, that’s really inventive. He can see now, though there’s not much to see.

“Liking the change?” A voice says behind him.

Aziraphale turns around and anything he could have said dies in his throat. “Crowley?” Before him hovers a being with six gigantic wings, each covered in millions of eyes, one pair covers his face, another pair covers his feet, the last pair Crowley uses to fly. “You’re a seraphim.”

“And you’re a Principality,” Crowley says like it’s that simple. “I thought you noticed.”

Admittedly, Aziraphale had noticed something powerful about Crowley but he didn’t want to think about it at the time. 

“We’re not supposed to be talking.” Aziraphale’s one pair of wings shake nervously.

“Says who?” Crowley says in a tone that could almost be blasphemous. “We’re all one big happy family, right?”

“I suppose.” Aziraphale had never felt like heaven is a family. It feels more like a pyramid scheme. (Those haven’t been invited yet either. In fact, Crowley would go on to invite them and decide he hates them more than anything he’s ever created. They’re just as annoying and rude as the thing he based them on. But, that’s another story.)

“So…” Crowley stops hovering and moves closer to Aziraphale. “Do you like it.” He gestures across the wide expanse of nothing, very well lit nothing.

“Yes,” Aziraphale says because he can’t say he doesn’t like whatever the Almighty is planning. “Light is good.”

“Yeah.” Aziraphale can’t see Crowley’s face, but he can tell by his tone he’s smiling. “I can see you now.”

“And I can see you.” Aziraphale smiles, treating himself for a moment before returning to the stern look expected of a principality. “I just think- no, wish- no, pray that there will be more.”

Crowley is silent for a moment, thinking over how careful and reckless Aziraphale is with his words. “There’ll be seven days worth of new things, or so I’ve heard.” Crowley extends his energy, waiting for Aziraphale.

Aziraphale hesitates. Crowley could get in a lot of trouble for knowingly fraternizing with a lower angel. Rumor has it, angels have been getting in trouble lately. But, Aziraphale reaches out to Crowley and lets themselves connect.

They sit for a while, long enough for the light to turn blue and purple, shifting into darkness. Until there’s another disturbance in Crowley’s energy. The ripple hits Aziraphale much harder than before. It burns. It burns so much that Aziraphale is the one to separate this time.

Before he can ask what just happened, Crowley moves away from Aziraphale. “I’ve got to go,” he says. The eyes on his wings close.

“Of course.” Aziraphale does a polite dip of his head. “Holy things to take care of.” That’s what that burning was, just holiness he isn’t allowed to dip into.

“Yeah, holy things.” Crowley says with all vigor drained from his voice, “Same time and place tomorrow.” And with that, he’s gone and so is the light.

Aziraphale sighs and goes to find some more light to indulge in.

The second day is interesting. There is sky and water now. Aziraphale likes the sky, it’s a good color. He also likes the water, it’s the same color as the sky. Although, he’s not sure if the water is wet or makes things wet.

He’s splashing around when a voice says, “You weren’t there.”

Crowley stands in the water. His wings only cover his face now. Two pairs are stretched above the water, barely avoiding getting wet.

“I’m sorry,” Aziraphale says, deeply meaning it. “I must of last track of time.”

“It’s alright, God still hasn’t quite figured out how long days are supposed to go yet.”

“You can’t say that.” Aziraphale’s eyes dart around, checking to see if anyone heard. “The Almighty has everything figured out.”

Crowley shrugs and doesn’t comment. “Do you like all this?” Crowley kicks the water, splashing Aziraphale.

“I do.” Aziraphale splashes him back. Crowley’s wings flutter, the eyes blinking sweetly. Aziraphale finds his own wings raising up, matching an airy feeling in his chest.

“Why do you suppose the Almighty is doing this?” Crowley asks. He grazes the tip of his wing over the surface of the water. The water ripples, brushing against Aziraphale’s leg.

Aziraphale is taken aback. They’re not supposed to ask questions and the higher-ups are certainly not allowed to.

“Well, because…” Aziraphale trails off, searching for the right words. “It’s… ineffable.”

“Ineffable?” Crowley laughs, a full laugh that fills Aziraphale with warmth. “What’s that mean?”

“It means the plan can’t be known but, it’s good.”

“So we’ve been told,” Crowley mutters. 

“What was that?” Aziraphale steps closer to Crowley. The water is hot around him, so hot Aziraphale flinches away.

“I have to go,” Crowley says. He uses two pairs of wings to fly, not bothering to cover his feet again. He flies fast, faster than he was intended to.

Aziraphale returns to heaven, the water suddenly losing its appeal.

The third day Aziraphale likes quite a lot. There are masses to break up the water. Earth and sea. On the land, there are plants. Aziraphale is in a new thing called a “forest”. There are trees, larger than he could ever imagine, flowers with colors so bright his head hurts, and fruits so big and ripe that they’re about to fall from the trees. Aziraphale is eating a fruit, it doesn’t have a name yet, the Almighty is saving that honor for someone. He’s not sure if he’s supposed to be eating, but the Almighty must make such wonderful things to be enjoyed.

“Aziraphale.” Crowley places his hand on the other’s shoulder.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale says with a smile that lights up his face. He turns around and the smile fades into shocked awe.

Crowley is using all six of his wings to hold the leaves of the plants back. Aziraphale can see his face and it’s breathtaking. The eyes on his wings are jet black, but the eyes on his face are golden, making the metal of the earth seem dull. His face is all sharp angles, mountains for cheekbones, valleys for a jawline. His hair is fire, a intense red, warm and bright.

“You’re eating the fruit.” Crowley picks a fruit from the same tree, inspecting but never bringing to his lips.

“Yes.” Aziraphale turns his attention to the fruit, away from Crowley. “It’s good.”

Crowley takes a bite, chews, and swallows. “Not really my thing.” He waves his hand over the fruit and the bite mark is gone. He places the fruit back on the tree. It doesn’t reattach to the tree, it just sits on the branch.

“The Almighty has certainly made some interesting things.” Aziraphale runs his fingers over the petals of a flower. They’re red, much like Crowley’s hair. The stem is covered in thorns.

“I think I like plants.” Crowley brushes his hand over a sapling. It triples in size, growing almost as tall as the other trees. The dirt bulges as the roots tunnel deeper. The leaves turn a deep green as they unfurl. The two angels stand underneath the trees, the light darkening as it filters through the leaves. The moment feels secluded, the two carving out a moment and place for each other.

“Aziraphale.” Crowley grabs his hand. “Who do you think this is all for?”

“It must be for us.” Aziraphale intertwines their fingers. “I mean all of us, all ethereal beings. Not just you and me.” His face flushes, he didn’t know it could do that.

Crowley bites his lip, thinking something over. “What do you suppose is coming next?”

“It’s not our place to think of such things,” Aziraphale says automatically. He squeezes Crowley’s hand tightly. “Besides, the surprise is half the fun.”

Crowley’s hand heats up and he drops Aziraphale’s. “I have to go.”

“Wait!” Aziraphale almost grabs his hand back but that heat, that fire, worries him. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Crowley looks over his shoulder before he takes off. “Tomorrow night, I’ll have a surprise for you.” And he flies off, using all six wings. He soars impossibly fast. What’s he running from? What’s he running to?

Aziraphale finishes his fruit then see the red flower again. He picks it and puts it inside his robes.

The fourth day, there’s a burning ball of fire in the sky. Aziraphale almost thinks it’s a bit of a let down considering all the other developments. But he doesn’t think that. Thinking can get an angel in big trouble. The ball of fire is called “sun” and it’s warm and makes the plants greener so, Aziraphale doesn’t complain.

Aziraphale spends the day on earth. He could go back to heaven, but he’s heard there’s a bit of trouble upstairs and he’d like to stay out of it. He sits himself down where the sea meets the land and waits for Crowley.

When the sun touches the sea and the sky turns red, a voice says “Hello, Aziraphale.”

“Evening, Crowley.” Aziraphale smiles and pats the ground next to him. 

Crowley’s wings are folded behind his back and the eyes are shut. He sits, legs stretched out, bare feet dipped in the water. “So what do we think of today?”

“Well, the ball of fire is nice.” Aziraphale looks at the horizon. The colors it turns the sky are truly fantastic. He just wishes today had a little more.

“Wait until you see the rest.” Crowley smiles and lounges on the sand. Aziraphale waits for him to explain, but he remains silent.

“I have a surprise for you,” Aziraphale says nervously. He pulls the flower from his robe, miraculously in perfect condition. “You said you liked the plants so, I grabbed one for you.”

Crowley takes the flower and weaves it into his rob, adding a pop of color to his outfit. “It’s beautiful.” He smiles, his whole face lit up.

“You’re beautiful.” The words spill out of Aziraphale’s mouth. He doesn’t even think, just speaks the truth.

“What?” Crowley digs his fingers in the sand, avoiding looking at Aziraphale.

“Your hair-” Aziraphale runs his hands through the flames on Crowley’s head. “-your face-” Aziraphale cups Crowley’s face and pulls his attention back to him. “-and your eyes are so beautiful.” Aziraphale looks into Crowley’s eyes, drinking in their perfect gold. “Of all the things God created, I think you’re my favorite.”

“Thank you,” Crowley barely manages to say. His face is bright red but he’s smiling. He reaches for Aziraphale’s hand, intertwining their fingers. At the same time, he reaches out his energy and wraps it around Aziraphale. They sit watching the sunset, connected in every way.

“What was it you wanted to show me, Crowley?” Aziraphale asks after the sun dips below the horizon.

“Oh right, the surprise!” Crowley smiles and pushes on Aziraphale’s shoulder. “Lay down and you’ll see.”

Aziraphale does as he’s told and gasps. “What’s that?” He points with his free hand.

“They’re calling it the moon.” Crowley’s not looking at the sky, he’s watching Aziraphale’s face.

“And what are the smaller ones?”

“Stars,” Crowley whispers the word, his breath tickling Aziraphale’s ear.

Aziraphale stares at the sky. “The Almighty really is creative.”

“They let me help, you know.”

Aziraphale turns his head towards Crowley. “You made the stars?” He whispers the words, less of a question more of a prayer.

“Not all of them.” Crowley turns his eyes towards the sky. He points to a blue star. “That’s Alpha Centauri. It looks like one very bright star, but it’s really two stars orbiting around each other, so close together that they’re one.”

“That’s amazing.” Aziraphale stares at the stars, filled with the usual awe he’s felt for creation and something else, a warm feeling inside his chest spreading through his whole being.

“I made them for us,” Crowley says, almost too quiet to hear.

“...What?” Aziraphale takes his eyes off the stars and meets Crowley’s eyes.

“We’ve gotten close these last few days.” Crowley squeezes Aziraphale’s hand in the same moment he floods more of himself around the other. “The angels up top are indifferent to creation, some even think it’s impure. They think God has tarnished the perfection of before. But you, Aziraphale, you love creation, you indulge in it. My…” Crowley pauses, searching for the right words. “My friends want to tear this apart and start anew. I want to start anew too, but here with you.”

Aziraphale presses their foreheads together, reaching his own ethereal energy out to intertwine with Crowley. “Those are very kind words.” Aziraphale wants to say more but can’t find the words, not many have been invented yet. And he’s unsettled by the idea of such unrest in heaven. “What else did you create?”

Crowley smiles, eager to have someone who enjoys his work. “That red one, and that cluster over there, and I’m calling that a constellation…”

Aziraphale listens as Crowley explains his handy work, watching his hand point and gesture at the expanse of heaven before them. Their own heaven. The night slips away with just the two of them on earth.

Just when the moon is about to touch the horizon, something changes. Aziraphale senses the same disturbance in Crowley’s energy, he feels the ripple. Then, he feels the burn. With all of Crowley wrapped around him, he feels like suffocated, roasting slowly, the heat making its way to his very being. He rips himself away from Crowley, metaphysically and physically. Aziraphale finds himself standing up to his waist in water. 

Crowley is standing on the shore, looking deeply hurt and confused. “Aziraphale, what’s wrong?”

“Didn’t you feel that?” Aziraphale shouts. He rubs his arms as if he’s broken out in hives. He’s impossibly cold after that but he never wants to be warm again.

“Feel what?” Crowley takes a step towards Aziraphale. Aziraphale takes two steps back, he doesn’t mean to, he’s scared. What’s wrong with Crowley? Something so painful can’t be holy? How long has this been happening?

“Feel yourself!” Aziraphale flares his wings out, puffing them up. “There’s something wrong with you, Crowley!”

“Something wrong with me?!” Crowley flares his wings out too, all six off them. They’re enormous with millions of eyes glowing black, glare daggers at Aziraphale. “I’m the highest of the high! I’m perfect!”

Aziraphale is terrified, his shaking creating waves in the water. “No, you’re not,” Aziraphale says with all the courage he can muster. “The Almighty is the highest of the high. Only They can be perfect.”

“But what if, we could be perfect?” Crowley lowers his voice, like one sharing an intimate secret. 

The earth rumbles a holy roar, the whole of creation trembling. Crowley catches himself, hovering over the earth. Aziraphale is not so lucky. He stumbles into the water and disappears beneath it.

“Aziraphale!” Crowley rushes over. Before he can go after him, Aziraphale gets his head above water.

“Don’t touch me!” It comes across angry but, Aziraphale isn’t angry. He’s scared. Scared of being burned again. He gets himself out of the water and hovers above it. As is respectful of a low ranking angel, he hovers below Crowley.

“I have to go,” Crowley says.

“Where do you go, Crowley?” Aziraphale lowers his head. He’s not supposed to see the face of a seraphim.

“I can’t tell you.” He wants to though. “Can we talk tomorrow?”

Aziraphale doesn’t want this to linger between them. Doesn’t want this anger and hurt to rot. He also doesn’t want to see Crowley again. Doesn’t want to be corrupted. Doesn’t want to disobey the Almighty.

Aziraphale nods.

Crowley smiles and almost reaches out to hold Aziraphale. His hand freezes inches from Aziraphale before he clutches it to his side. He flies away, moving so fast that his wings are almost one mass.

Aziraphale watches him until he’s too far to see. Then Aziraphale returns to heaven, finding a quiet place to process what just happened. He fully intended to do so but, once he stops moving, he breaks down. Crying is new and Aziraphale has to say, he doesn’t like it.

The fifth day is a game changer. Now there are living things. Well, the plants are living but they live slowly. These new creatures, fish and birds, live extremely fast. Swimming and flying everywhere, populating the earth.

Aziraphale is in the same forest as he was on the third day. A white bird, making a sweet cooing, is perched on his finger.

“So, the pros and cons of today.” Crowley appears, holding a black bird with iridescent feathers. He still has the flower that Aziraphale gave him on his robe.

Aziraphale ignores the timidness bubbling inside him and pushes aside the events of yesterday. “Pro: The features are splendid, just like ours.” Aziraphale strokes the top of the bird’s head.

“Con: feet covered in scales, bad texture.” Crowley glares at the bird like it’s done something to offend him. “Could you imagine having this on your body.”

Aziraphale touches the bird’s feet and finds it unappealing. “No, I suppose not.”

“The fish have them all their bodies and they don’t even have feet!” Crowley throws his hands in the air, scaring his bird off. “A fate worse than death, that’s what I say.”

Aziraphale chuckles. “When are these things going to get proper names, anyway?” Aziraphale puts his bird down in one of the trees. Bird really doesn’t cover it all. There’s big birds, little birds, birds of all colors. They need names.

“Word has it-” Crowley leans in and whispers “-The Almighty is thinking of giving that job to tomorrow’s creation.”

Aziraphale almost thinks it strange. Creation can’t name itself, such an honor should be given to the divine. But, he doesn’t think that because questioning The Almighty simply isn’t done. So he says, “huh.”

“About yesterday,” Crowley says, “I’m sorry that I got so heated. I just thought that you were trying to push me away and then I actually did something to push you away. You’re a better angel than me, Aziraphale, can you forgive me?”

“I’d never push you away Crowley.” Aziraphale cups Crowley’s face but doesn’t meet his eyes. “But, you are a better angel than me, you were just putting me in my place as a low ranking angel.”

“Stop it,” Crowley says sharply, almost a hiss. “Why do we even have a hierarchy? Aren’t we supposed to be unified?”

“It’s just the way it is,” Aziraphale says, “no reason to question anything.”

Crowley sneers and his wings bristle, but he drops it. “But, you do forgive me for frightening you?”

“Only God can truly forgive, Crowley.” Aziraphale sighs, he could be going about this better. “But, I accept your apology.”

Crowley reaches out his hand. “You don’t hate me?”

“I could never hate anything.” Aziraphale takes his hand. “But, I don’t think I could even dislike you.”

Crowley smiles and squeezes Aziraphale’s hand. “Fancy a stroll?”

“That sounds splendid.”

And they do. They walk over all the land they can find. They find new plants, new birds, new fish, all filling Aziraphale with joy. And that fills Crowley with joy.

“We can’t be on earth tomorrow,” Crowley says. The two are sat down on a beach, the water lapping at their feet. “God’s making some special creatures that we need permission to interact with.”

Aziraphale wants to say that hardly seems fair, the earth is so interesting and heaven is so dull. But he doesn’t say that, doesn’t even think it. “So, I’ll see you in Heaven tomorrow.”

Crowley looks at Aziraphale like he’s a child who just can’t figure out the words of a very interesting book. “I suppose so.”

They sit in comfortable silence for a while. Crowley looks at the stars. Aziraphale looks at Crowley. 

“Where do you go, Crowley?” He asks suddenly. 

Crowley keeps looking at the stars, but his face is all scrunched up. He’s thinking hard about what to say next. “I have a group of friends, high ranking angels. They’ve been talking about making changes in heaven. I don’t agree with most of the things they say, but I have all these questions and so do they.”

“Crowley.” Concern cracks Aziraphale’s voice. “That’s what that burning is, isn’t?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Aziraphale.” Crowley takes Aziraphale’s other hand. “I’m fine, this will all be fine.”

“Maybe you should just be with your friends tomorrow,” Aziraphale says but squeezes Crowley’s hands tighter.

“No, I couldn’t stand a day without you.” Crowley presses his lips against Aziraphale’s hands. That’s new and makes Aziraphale’s heart race. “I love you.”

“What?” Aziraphale’s hands would be shaking if Crowley wasn’t gripping them so tightly.

“I love you.” Crowley’s voice is reverent in a way that Aziraphale has never heard. “There’s a feeling in my chest, warm and frantic. I need to see you, the way the fish need water and the birds need air and the way the plants need sun. I hung the stars for you and I would do anything you command. Tell me you feel the same?”

“Of course I do, Crowley.” Aziraphale is crying, it’s dreadful. The tears burn his eyes and face. “But, only God can be given love and only They can have our love.”

“Aziraphale, you can’t ignore this feeling.” Crowley pulls Aziraphale closer. Aziraphale knows he should resist but, he doesn’t. It feels so good to be held, to be comforted. “Please say that you love me.”

“I can’t betray the Almighty.” Aziraphale cries into Crowley’s robes. He wants to say the words, wants to lavish Crowley in all he has, wants to start anew with just the two of them. 

“Then tell me your feelings match mine.” Crowley wraps his wings around them. The eyes glow golden, enveloping them in a sky all their own.

“All the passion, all the warmth, all the desire you have for me, I return it to you in equal measure.” Aziraphale chokes the words out. He feels he has committed something unholy. Crowley is there to wash out that feeling, his arm pressing the two together as almost one.

Aziraphale takes a shuddering breath, taking in Crowley’s scent, before saying, “I have to go.”

“As do I, angel.” Crowley lets go. Aziraphale is too stuck in himself to question Crowley’s words. They both fly back to heaven, going opposite directions.

Aziraphale doesn’t know what the sixth day brings. He doesn’t search out a higher up for permission to find out. He waits for Crowley. He’s vaguely aware that something big happened today, whether it be in heaven or on earth. He doesn’t care to find out.

Aziraphale doesn’t know what the seventh day brings. He waits for Crowley. Things are quieter today.

“Hello, Aziraphale,” Says a voice that is to even, too proper to be Crowley. Someone stands in front of Aziraphale that looks like the lowest angel but without the wings. The power radiating from him tells Aziraphale that he is not a lowly angel but, much much higher than that. His eyes are purple and hard to look at, like the sun as it just starts to set.

“My name is Gabriel, I’m a messenger.” He winks awkwardly. “But, I’m due for a promontion soon.”

“Ah of course,” Aziraphale says with the confidence of someone who randomly got called on in class.

“In response to recent events, I bring a message.” Gabriel snaps his fingers and heaven is a little less empty. It’s still rather bare but now there are white columns and a giant model of the world. “The Almighty is remodeling.” Gabriel smiles like someone who works in retail.

“That’s...nice,” Aziraphale says. “Can I ask, umm, what are you wearing?”

“Clothes,” Gabriel says with a little too much enthusiasm.

“No, the other thing.”

“Oh!” Gabriel laughs forcefully. “Flesh!” He pats himself like someone looking for their wallet when they’re really hoping you’ll foot the bill. “The Almighty commands that we take on the appearance of their newest creation, humans.”

When Gabriel says humans, Aziraphale knows what they are. He can see the first two, walking around in a garden. They seem nice, might even have the potential to be great.

“Fascinating,” Aziraphale says, looking at the globe.

“If you say so.” Gabriel shrugs then beginnings to walk off.

“Umm, before you go,” Aziraphale says. Gabriel sighs and turns around like it’s the hardest thing he’s ever had to do. “What are the recent events, you mentioned earlier?” Aziraphale nervously taps his fingers together.

“Haven’t you heard?” Gabriel plasters on a fake smile. “The battle is won, they’ve fallen.”

Images of fire, sizzling ethereal energy, and broken bodies flood Aziraphale’s mind. He can hear battle cries, screams of anguish, and the moaning of the damned. He can smell sulfur and ash.

“Oh my,” Aziraphale barely leaving his throat. Gabriel keeps smiling. “Do you know who fell?” 

“The list is long and confidential,” Gabriel says as if explaining to a toddler why they can’t have ice cream for breakfast. Aziraphale nods because he can’t think of anything else to do. He can’t get the screams out of his head, can’t shake the dread from his heart. Gabriel leaves and Aziraphale is alone, waiting.

On the eighth day, Aziraphale hears a voice.

“Aziraphale.”

His heart breaks.

“Yes, Lord,” Aziraphale responds in his best I’m-a-holy-being-that-is-always-obedient voice.

“I have come to speak to you about the former seraphim you grew close with.”

And there it is, the word former. Aziraphale breaks, in every way an angel shouldn’t be able to. He shouldn’t cry in front of the Almighty, but he can’t hold himself together.

The Lord’s presence draws near and Aziraphale finds a single darkened feather and a singed flower in his hands. He touches the feather and finds its texture no longer soft but rough and scaly.

“Oh Crowley,” Aziraphale whimpers.

“Not Crowley anymore,” God says, “he shall be called Crawley, doomed to slither across the earth.”

Aziraphale wants to shout, to scream, to curse. This is wrong, this is unfair, this is cruel. But, he can’t. Not in the Lord’s protection. So he says, “Forgive me,” but doesn’t mean it, and “it’s my fault,” that he does mean.

“It is not your fault, Aziraphale.” A warmth envelops Aziraphale, so hot it’s cold. A comfort fills him, so strong it’s numbing.

“But it is Lord,” Aziraphale says with an calmness he resents and welcomes. “He questioned and rebelled and loved because of me.” He wants to add, shouldn’t I have fallen too? But the words won’t leave his mouth.

“He questioned long before you,” God says. Images of high ranking angels meeting in the far ends of heaven enter Aziraphale’s mind. Crowley is there with them, looking interested but not sinister. 

“What about his love?” Aziraphale asks.

“He does not love you as I do. I love perfectly but, he loves passionately as do you.” Every moment Crowley and Aziraphale shared fills the angel’s mind. They’re from an outside perspective and Aziraphale can see the yearning on his own face and he can see it matched on Crowley’s.

Despite the comfort in God’s presence, Aziraphale weeps. “I don’t want this pain, Lord.”

“I know, my child.” The Almighty dries Aziraphale’s tears. “I am merciful.”

“What use do the divine have for mercy?” Aziraphale wants it to come out angry but it’s hushed.

“Aziraphale, you have loved and been loved, you have spent your divinity.”

And he knows it’s true. At his core, there’s a piece of his being that is neither heavenly or hellish. 

“Now, I shall give you three gifts, my child,” God says. “I shall take your memory of him and with it, the pain.”

Aziraphale wants to beg for anything else. How many ways can Crowley be taken from him? He’ll endure the pain for all eternity if he can just have the pleasure of the past. His tongue lays still.

“I will let you two live on earth together, protecting it, as long as the earth remains. And lastly.”

“And lastly?” Aziraphale asks.

“You’ll see, my child.”

“Thank you, Lord.” Aziraphale swallows any concerns he has, all but one. “What about Crowley?”

“My child, where else do you think I am?” God says in a voice that is both kind and chastising. “Every gift I give to you, I give to him.”

“Thank you,” Aziraphale says and truly means it. 

In a flash of light, Aziraphale finds himself in a garden, holding a flaming sword, and watching a serpent crawl up an apple tree.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, leave a comment and a kudos, they make my day and I love responding to comments. If you enjoyed this, I also have some other Good Omens works you may like so check those out. This was really fun to write, let me know if you'd be interested in a part two where Aziraphale and/or Crowley remember their time before the fall.


End file.
